Quick Fix
by England Fangirl 11
Summary: In which the ginger fixes his own wound. TW: Blood


It was another narrow escape. The police were getting more cautious, and Raphael didn't know how much longer he would be able to evade them. He was so close, though! So close to finding the clue he needed to find his father.

But, all closeness aside, that wasn't exactly what was going through the ginger's mind as he limped off to a secluded area to change his clothes and make it home without any question from neighbors.

He already had cover-ups planned, anyway.

"Raphael! Why are you limping?"

"Ah I was taking Fondue for a walk and tripped and hurt my leg! I'll be fine though!"

Or! Alternatively, he could go on the whole "a girl was in trouble and i saved her but got injured in the process" cliche. Nobody would believe him for a moment, though. Raphael? The college student who literally cant even carry his textbooks without a struggle? Puh-leez.

But in all actuality, what happened is Raphael got shot. It wasn't a common thing to happen, but with some of Paris's finest firing at you, its bound to happen on occasion. Really, it didn't even hurt that much anymore. It's kinda odd to say, but once you've been shot an upward of ten times it kinda becomes a normal feeling. Though, the various scars that covered his legs from previous bullet wounds begged to differ, raising the approximate number to fifteen or even twenty.

Not like they were even fatal shots. Some were just nicks. Bullet barely grazed him. Others the bullet actually had to be taken out. He actually had to attend physical therapy for some of those. But regardless of any pain caused by these wounds, he had to keep going.

Currently, his pant leg was being stained crimson by blood that was flowing from the most recent bullet wound. Thankfully it was just another graze, but it still hurt like crazy. His vision seemed to be spinning a bit, and he wasn't sure if it was due to blood loss or just the pain that was shooting from his lower leg straight to his head.

He couldn't even bother to change from his Phantom R get-up. He needed to head straight home. He needed to...He needed to get something to stop the bleeding.

Pressure.

He needed pressure, right?

Hurriedly, he took his tie off and sloppily began to tie it around where he felt the most pain, hoping that it was the right spot. His hands quickly stained red at the fingertips as he tightly knotted the bit of fabric around the still bleeding wound. Hopefully that'd buy him time. He stood once done, glancing around, his vision still spinning. Where was he again?

With a sloppy step, he began to hurry as quickly as he could in the direction he believed his apartment to be.

Amazingly, Rapahel managed to make it hope with no interference from passerby or police. Somehow, he was headed the right way, and didn't even get hurt further while walking across the not-so-busy roads of nighttime Paris. But, he was feeling dizzy...so dizzy. The blood loss and pain combined were getting to him, and he needed to act quick. Hurriedly, he stripped himself of the now clinging tie and pants and got out his medical supplies.

Its sad he has these so on hand.

For a moment, it was confusing, trying to distinguish between scar and open wound. Even the long stream of half dry, half running blood that reached all the way down the remaining length of his leg wasn't an easy giveaway through his faltering vision. The blinding pain made it almost impossible to even begin to sterilize the wound. It literally felt like his leg was about to fall off.

...But only for a moment.

A sudden rush of addrenaline overtook his being, and he began to quickly work on sterilizing, pressurizing, and bandaging the wound. But before any bandaging could be done, he had to somehow stich it shut, at least temporarily. In the short minutes he had left before he would go unconscious, he felt it important to focus on one thing and one thing only. And that was how quickly he could correctly fix his own leg.

Oddly skilled hands flew back and forth from his leg to different medical tools that he had handy. A quick, thankfully numbed sew job had to occur, the sight rather horrifying. Sadly, the ginger was used to this by now. As he neared the final stitch, his hands began to tremble, and his motions became slightly more sloppy. The sound of Fondue beginning to bark at the door made him nervous. Wait... When did Fondue get in? He didn't even recognise Fondue as his dog for a good moment as he stared up, his hand the only thing keeping pressure on his wound as he noticed it still bled a bit through the stitching.

But it hit him that Fondue likely wasn't barking for nothing. His dog or not, he knew someone was coming. But... he wasn't even done bandaging his leg-!

After just a brief pause, Raphael's breathing increased as he hurriedly worked on tearing gauze off of the well used roll, tying it around his leg, and doing everything he could hopefully cover up his quick fix job. As the final tie was done on the gauze, he felt a sudden wave of relief overtake him. He could feel the blood flow stop fully. He'd saved himself from losing a fatal ammount of blood again, hadn't he? At least for now, he figured. He gave a quiet chuckle, his accomplished expression soon turning to that of fear, though, as he remembered Fondue's barking from not even a minute ago.

Someone...Someone had to be outside, right? He could vaguely see lights flashing, but as the addrenaline wore off, so did the numbness of his pain, and everything came crashing back down on him. His vision became blurred again as his leg began to throb, and he could feel himself slipping unconscious. Huh, maybe he hadn't fixed himself completely after all. The last thing he heard before slipping into an unconscios state was the door opening and Fondue barking. Though, the mumbling he heard as people ran in wasn't as angry as he'd heard mere minutes before he got home...

Whatever it was would have to wait until he woke up, he figured as he fell unconscious, Fondue still barking at the intruders as they neared the now helpless ginger.


End file.
